Frodo & The Mushrooms
by VJ Spencer
Summary: The big L.O.T.Rs fans amongst you will remember that in 'The Fellowship' there was a small reference to the adventures of Frodo in his youth. This little adventure you are about to read is how, one afternoon, Frodo and his little hobbit-friend Albert, attempted to steal mushrooms from Farmer Maggot...


"Come on Albert!" Frodo called to his curly-haired friend up the lane, "are you coming, or aren't you?"

Albert teetered on his toes for a moment, his sticky-out ears turning pink from embarrassment for being afraid. He was smaller than Frodo - smaller than most young Hobbits in fact - and was often picked on because of it. Frodo, however, had befriended the poor chap (even though they weren't the most alike of folk) and little Berty was grateful for this. It was good to have a friend who seemed to find his company a pleasure, and whom did not constantly remind him of his vertically-challenged state. However, there were some pastimes of Frodo's that he preferred not to take part in...

"I-I don't think we should, Frodo!" Berty stammered after a moment's hesitation, "We c-could get into serious trouble!"

"Oh don't be such a scaredy-Hobbit!" Frodo laughed, "I've done this many times before; farmer Maggot won't even know we were there!"

"But my mother said he had dogs!" Berty whimpered, "Big, black dogs with an incredible sense of smell and sharp teeth - they could tear us to pieces Frodo!"

"Oh my dear, dear Albert," Frodo sighed, Will you never learn? The dogs are kept in the farm house. We will be heading towards the fields. There shall be no dogs where we are wondering to!...but it is your choice, I suppose..."

Frodo turned away and began heading further up the path, leaving Berty standing alone. In his mind, he was suffering in an inward struggle between doing as he wished, and doing as his mother had always taught him...

But Berty soon made his decision.

"Wait!" Frodo, wait!" He called, running frantically with his big hairy feet as he caught up with the taller Hobbit, "I have decided to come with you!"

"A wise choice, young Berty!" Frodo laughed, slapping a firm hand on his back and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, "and your shall not regret your decision! Tonight we shall dine on the finest mushrooms in all the shire! Delectable! Delicious! The best you have ever tasted!"

Frodo tightened the arm that he had about Berty's shoulder in an excitable squeeze. But little Berty was so light, and Frodo so strong, that the tiny Hobbit was lifted from the ground! He dangled for a moment - hairy feet wiggling in the open air - as Frodo carried him a short distance, before dropping him back to the ground without a second thought.

The sun was high in the sky as they walked; the golden rays bouncing off their backs and warming the hair on their heads. It was not a long walk to the mushroom fields of Farmer Maggot, but it was a beautiful one. Frodo watched as a pair of bright blue butterflies danced and twirled together as they fluttered past, and the scent of Mrs Doris' rose garden was carried across with the wind. Frodo sighed - he was quite content. Mushrooms are the most favoured food of all Hobbits - and Hobbits do love their food - and Frodo could not wait until he could eat some. He hoped that when he moved to Hobbiton to live with his Uncle Bilbo (if he decided to take him up on the offer, that is) that such wonderful mushrooms would still be in easy gathering distance.

The two Hobbits then encountered a fork in the road; one pathway led right and into the forest, the other; left, through a gate, and past many splendid Hobbit-holes where many happy Hobbits lived. Round doors, round windows, comfy armchair and cosy fires -what one usually expects to find in the home of a Hobbit.

"Do we take the gate?" Albert asked.

Frodo laughed; "Not unless you wish to find yourself on farmer Maggot's front doorstep! No young Berty, we are headed East into the forest. That is the only way we can get to the mushroom fields if we ish to be undetected."

Frodo led the way into the trees, where the path became muddier and far less lovely to walk along. Berty thought he heard whisperings in the tree branches above them, and alerted this to Maser Frodo. But Frodo ignored his whimpers. He was focused on one thing, and it was not the sounds he heard around him.

"Honestly Albert!" Frodo sighed, "One would think you do not wish to steal mushrooms for your supper!"

Berty wanted to tell Frodo that no, he most definitely did not wish to steal mushrooms for his supper. But Berty did not. Instead he hung his head, held his tongue, and said nothing.

Meanwhile, Frodo had discovered the gap in the hedgerow.

"Berty, come hither," He whispered, "look!"

With hairy, heavy feet, Berty reluctantly joined Frodo at the hedge. He looked through and saw with his own eyes just what Frodo had been so excited about: Farmer Maggot's mushrooms.

And they _did_ look delectable. And they _did_ look delicious. And they _were_ the finest mushrooms Berty had ever lain eyes on - in all the shire!

"Alright," He said, the growls in his stomach defeating all doubt he once had, "let's go."

Pulling his woollen cloak tight about his shoulders, Frodo squeezed through the gap in the brambled hedge. Thorns caught on his clothes and hair, and his face got a few scratches. But Frodo was used to this kind of adventure. It was very different to the sort he would experience in later life though, when wizards and elves and trolls and dwarves and orcs and magic rings all came into play...

Berty wriggled through the hedge afterwards, but his scratches were few as, due to his small size, few brambles had managed to reach him. He was less wary now, having seen the price he would gain for all of his troubles - and a fine prize too, it was.

he didn't turn back now, even though this could be his final opportunity to do so, and return to his mother's home where bread and butter and scrumptious crumpets would be waiting for him for afternoon tea. These mushrooms looked far more tasty than his mother-hobbit's crumpets.

"Pass me your cloak," Frodo said, and Berty obediently loosened his cloak from about his shoulders.

Frodo placed the cloth down on the ground and proceeded to take large handfuls of mushrooms from the earth. He held them to his nose and sniffed, long and hard. He could not wait until the long walk home, when eating these stolen delicacies would be safer.

Berty then helped to gather, and the two hobbits threw handfuls and handfuls of the mushrooms into the cloak until it looked close to bursting. Young Albert was fearful that they would not be able to carry the great load back with them.

"No, no," Frodo insisted, "Just a few more..."

There was a glint in his eyes from his greed and hunger; a funny thing that happened to Frodo when there was mushrooms involved. His stomach growled once more. Recently, he had been even more hungry than normal - even for a hobbit! - and his mother had noted just how much he had been eating. He was a young lad, after all, and a growing one too. He didn't know it at the time, but Frodo would soon become the nineteenth tallest hobbit to ever live in the Shire.

Meanwhile, Berty stood and watched the surroundings with wide, fearful eyes. He could hear noises again - but even scarier noises than the whispers from the trees.

"Frodo, listen!" He said, "Do you hear a sound?"

The two hobbits froze and the world around them appeared incredibly still for a while. And then Frodo did hear the sound, but it was nothing welcoming like the whistling of a merry elf on a stroll down the forest path, or the hum of the bees as they busied about making honey.

It was the dogs.

There was a low snarling from the fence to their left and ascending from the shadows appeared three large, black dogs - teeth bared and ready to snap.

"Frodo?" Berty squeaked, "What do we do?"

The taller Hobbit looked down at the mushrooms. He could not bring himself to leave them behind.

"Run!" Frodo shouted, snatching the cloak full of mushrooms from the ground and sprinting away across the field as fast as his little legs would carry hi,. Mushrooms tumbled to the ground and Frodo's load lightened. His heart sank, but still beat against his chest for fear of the dogs that were chasing close behind them.

Frodo then noticed Berty heading for the gap in the hedge again.

"No Albert!" He called, "They shall only follow us! Climb the apple tree!"

With a helping hand from Frodo, Berty scrambled into the tree. He was passed up the mushrooms, but his grasp was weak and even more topped down to the ground. There was no time for Frodo to save them though. The dogs were getting ever closer.

Luckily, Frodo was a strong young Hobbit, and he managed to grab on to a sturdy branch of the tree and move his feet out of reach of the dogs' snapping jaws. He still dangled though, and his big feet struggled and kicked as he tried to get a better grip on the surprisingly smooth surface of the tee.

"Help me Berty!" Frodo pleased, "I cannot hold on much longer! MY grip is loosening and I shall fall!"

Berty leaned down and grasped outwards for Frodo's hand, but he was only a small Hobbit. His arms were far too short.

"I'm sorry Frodo, I cannot!"

Frodo clung tightly to the branch, as the dogs continued to bark beneath him, and felt himself begin to weep. He never meant for this to happen - never meant for anyone to get hurt - and now he was dreadfully scared of what these dogs would do to him when his strength finally did run out. He did not wish to die. He wished to live a long and merry life and one day have a beautiful Hobbit hole of his own.

but then:

"Isaac! Wolf! Fang!" A harsh voice shouted, "Will you cease that infernal yapping?"

Frodo opened his eyes. He was not going to die after all!

Farmer Maggot - the owner of the voice, and the dogs, and the farm, and indeed the mushrooms - then came into view.

He was an elderly Hobbit, and a short and stout one too. With grey hair and beady eyes surrounded by wrinkled skin, he looked up at the two young hobbits that were dangling in his apple tree.

"Well, well, well," He said, rubbing his bearded chin, "What do we have here? Got ourselves a couple of thieves, have we?"

Frodo gulped and looked up at the petrified face of little Berty. He was so scared, he appeared to be made from stone. Frodo felt incredibly guilty now for what he had done - he had never meant for Albert to get into trouble.

"Mr Maggot," Frodo said, trembling, "w-we didn't mean to. We're d-dreadfully sorry!"

"Sorry you got caught, I'd wager!" The farmer snapped back, "Now are you going to come down here so I can give you a belting, or do I have to knock the tree, like I'm harvesting apples, and wait for you to fall?"

"B-but Mr Maggot, sir," Berty whimpered, "The dogs..."

"they'll only harm you if I give them the command," He answered, "So don't give me a reason to! Now I suggest you get down here now master Frodo and your little friend - I shall put a stop to your dastardly antics once and for all! You'll never steal mushrooms from my farm again!"

Reluctantly, Frodo and Berty dropped down from the tree and Farmer Maggot gave them the belting they deserved. Few thieves were found in the Shire, and when they were not tolerated.

The two Hobbits went home in tears, with no mushrooms and sore backsides.

But not once did they ever steal mushrooms again.


End file.
